 outside
standing-ground in gin; but the rest require something that good society calls
»enthusiasm,« something that will present motives in an entire absence of high
prizes, something that will give patience and feed human love when the limbs
ache with weariness, and human looks are hard upon us - something, clearly, that
lies outside personal desires, that includes resignation for ourselves and
active love for what is not ourselves. Now and then, that sort of enthusiasm
finds a far-echoing voice that comes from an experience springing out of the
deepest need. And it was by being brought within the long lingering vibrations
of such a voice that Maggie, with her girl's face and unnoted sorrows, found an
effort and a hope that helped her through years of loneliness, making out a
faith for herself without the aid of established authorities and appointed
guides - for they were not at hand, and her need was pressing. From what you
know of her, you will not be surprised that she threw some exaggeration and
wilfulness, some pride and impetuosity, even into her self-renunciation: her own
life was still a drama for her, in which she demanded of herself that her part
should be played with intensity. And so it came to pass that she often lost the
spirit of humility by being excessive in the outward act; she often strove after
too high a flight, and came down with her poor little half-fledged wings dabbled
in the mud. For example, she not only determined to work at plain sewing, that
she might contribute something towards the fund in the tin box, but she went, in
the first instance, in her zeal of self-mortification, to ask for it at a
linen-shop in St Ogg's, instead of getting it in a more quiet and indirect way;
and could see nothing but what was entirely wrong and unkind, nay, persecuting,
in Tom's reproof of her for this unnecessary act. »I don't like my sister to do
such things,« said Tom; »I'll take care that the debts are paid, without your
lowering yourself in that way.« Surely there was some tenderness and bravery
mingled with the worldliness and self-assertion of that little speech; but
Maggie held it as dross, overlooking the grains of gold, and took Tom's rebuke
as one of her outward crosses. Tom was very hard to her, she used to think, in
her long night-watchings to her who had always loved him so; and then she strove
to be contented with that
